


gift wrap

by warmth



Series: christmas [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas fic, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:04:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmth/pseuds/warmth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is signed up for a gift wrapping station by Laura alongside a boy named Stiles Stilinski, in an obnoxious Christmas sweater, and a pair of reindeer ears. A boy in an obnoxious Christmas sweater, and a pair of reindeer ears, that just won’t shut up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	gift wrap

“Come on, Derek!” 

Derek sighed, letting Laura take hold of his jacket sleeve and drag him across the parking lot, an exuberant smile on her face. The sky was tense with anticipation, right on the brink of snowing and not. He scowled at the sky, hoping desperately for the latter; trudging home in the snow would be awful, but it would also be just his luck. He adjusted the rolls of wrapping paper tucked underneath his arm, lengthening his strides to keep up with his sister. 

Laura was the start of all this, really, the reason that he was up bright and early on a perfectly good Saturday morning, juggling wrapping paper and seasonal, brightly colored, stick-on bows. She had volunteered not only herself, but Derek as well, to wrap gifts in some dingy part of the mall, alongside a bunch of other, chipper Christmas people. 

Derek concluded that he was not one of those chipper Christmas people. He wasn’t a Grinch, per say, he just didn’t particularly find the joy in the decorating and the gift buying and the telling of the Santa Claus legend, because, really, how the hell did a fat man in a red suit smuggle himself into the traditions of this holiday anyhow? Of course, the man could admit that it wasn’t _all_ bad, in fact, he used to love Christmas, it had just been a long time since he’d had a good one, even with Laura around. 

A small smile made its way onto Derek’s face, though, when Laura fished a red hat out of her pocket, tipped with a furry white ball, and pulled it carefully over her hair, dancing through the sliding doors. Derek was hit with a burst of warm air as he trailed after her. 

Laura threaded her arm through his, nudging him with a large smile. “Oh, lighten up, Derek. It’s going to be fun!” 

He grunted, giving her a look. The brunette girl just chuckled. “It’s _going_ to be _fun_!” Leaving no room for argument, Laura tugged him past store fronts, swerving wildly to avoid Christmas shoppers and humming to the beat of “Jingle Bell Rock,” which was filtering through the tinny mall speakers. 

They were the last ones to arrive, it seemed; the long table was laden with customers and other volunteers up to their elbows in ribbon and scotch tape. Laura hauled him over next to a gangly boy with dark hair, before plucking the wrapping paper out of his grasp and disappearing into the fray of customers. A girl across the table smiled at him and he groaned inwardly. The boy next to him snorted and Derek turned, giving him an appraising glance; he was clad in a ratty old sweater lined with holes, one of those obnoxious, ugly Christmas ones that people always mocked in movies. A pair of reindeer ears adorned his head, brown hair curling around the edges of the band, and he was smiling, fingers long and practiced, dancing over various items as he made small talk with the clients. The kid stared back at him for a moment, mouth wide as though he was in awe, before he quirked his lip, shoving a square of paper in front of him. Derek stared at it. 

“That’s a cool invention called wrapping paper. You use it to cover up gifts.” The boy grinned, hand momentarily getting caught up in the tape dispenser. 

“I know what it is,” Derek growled, rolling his eyes and taking the box a girl shoved towards him shyly, flipping her hair over her shoulder and making eyes at him. Someone was getting a waffle maker for Christmas this year, he thought to himself as he folded the boxed machine into the square, snatching the tape from the his companion’s grasp. He pushed it back without so much as another glance in the girl’s direction, even as he felt her hovering. 

Derek noticed his shoulder’s were shaking and when he looked at the other boy, he saw a wide smile was plastered on his face.

“Is something funny to you?” He huffed, crossing his arms and reluctantly uncrossing them as another patron slammed a gift down on the table. 

“Nah, man,” He swore, smile still in place. “Nothing at all.” The brunet held out a hand when they had both finished wrapping. “I’m Stiles.”

“Derek.” He replied gruffly, if only out of courtesy. Stiles bobbed his head, limbs moving constantly; his long fingered hand tapping a rhythm out on the table and bouncing on the balls of his feet, as though he was containing a bunch of energy just dying to be released. He adjusted the sweater he was wearing, grinning at the woman who approached them. 

“Hi, Mrs. McCall! Scott’s down the line, if you want to go get him to wrap for you! Everyone thought it would be better to split us up,” He said mournfully and the woman laughed. 

“It is better. The table would’ve caught fire about ten minutes ago with you two in the same place.” Stiles shrugged when she pushed her items forward, wrapping them expertly. Derek pulled his eyes away from the scene when a little girl passed him a small, glass ornament, looking heart wrenchingly like a young Laura. 

“Hey, there.” Derek called to her with a small smile.

“Hi!” She waved, beaming. Derek saw that there was a large gap where she had lost her front tooth. “Can I have the pink wrapping paper, please?” He nodded, covering the ornament in smooth, bright pink paper with extra care. 

“Who’s this for?” He asked curiously, cursing under his breath when his hand got caught on the tape dispenser and glowering at Stiles when he smirked. 

“My big brother! He doesn’t really like Christmas, but I get him stuff anyway.” Derek bit his lip, slapping a large, red bow onto the square. That reminded him of his own sister. His smile widened at the way her eyes followed his movements, and he leaned forward, closing her hands over the present so she didn’t drop it.

“No one _doesn’t_ like Christmas, not even your brother,” He grinned, catching sight of Laura who was deep in conversation with the person to the left of her, a redheaded girl. “And he’ll really like the gift. Promise.” The girl gave him a wide eyed look, holding out her pinky. 

“Pinky promise?” He hooked his pinky with hers; it was so small in comparison. 

“Pinky promise.” She beamed, running off to a blonde woman who shot him a grateful look. When he turned away, Stiles was staring at him, head cocked. 

“What?” He said irritably, stripping himself of his jacket and throwing the uncomfortably heated leather over a pile of cardboard cylinders, bare of paper. Stiles laughed; Derek was beginning to think that was all this kid did.

“You’re weird, Derek,” Stiles replied, waving at someone over the mass of heads. “You’re like, every stereotypical Christmas baddy. A real downer with a heart of gold,” He pressed a gold bow onto Derek’s Henley, right over his heart. He rolled his eyes and Stiles nodded earnestly, flailing his hands to somehow emphasize his point. “I’m serious, man! It’s like watching Ebenezer wrap presents from here. Well, the Ebenezer at the beginning of the story, before all the ghosts came. Maybe that’s what you need, those cool ghosts of the past, present, and future.”

Derek shook his head, suppressing the urge to smile, because this kid wasn’t funny. He was irritating. 

Yeah.

“Stiles?” He shot him a fake smile as he leaned over, grabbing for more wrapping paper. 

“Yeees?”

“Shut up.”

Stiles snickered, holding up his hands and, once again, getting caught in the tape dispenser. He cursed, untangling the sticky material before another customer could arrive. Derek grabbed the red and green plastic, pulling it away from the boy and settling it firmly in between them, smirking. 

“Oh, ha, ha, very funny, sourface. I saw you all tangled up a few times, too.” Derek opened his mouth to reply, but a man cut him off, heaving his gift up onto the table. Stiles made a sound that sounded distinctly like a, “hah.” 

For the next few minutes, the two couldn’t get a word in, suddenly swamped by a group of squealing teenage girls and soccer moms. 

“My Uncle would love this.” He remarked, mostly to himself. 

“Why, is he a pervert?”

Derek actually burst out laughing at that, surprised that someone had pegged his Uncle that way without worrying about offending him. 

“Absolutely. I have an insane, pervert uncle, and an equally crazy older sister who drags me to events like this.” Stiles nudged him.

“Oh, please, you know you don’t regret coming. You got to meet me!” 

“Exactly.” 

The other boy rolled his eyes, reaching for the tape. Without thinking, Derek slapped his hand away, breaking a few pieces off on his fingers and holding them out for Stiles. The other boy grinned, adjusting his reindeer ears and getting the tape caught around one of them. Derek snorted, wrapping the gift of a girl, who was holding her hands clasped beneath her chin, eyes dreamy. 

“You guys are so cute!” She chirped, beaming and taking the present from Derek’s stiff, outstretched arms. “I wish me and my boyfriend were as adorable as you two!”

“Oh, no, we’re not—“ 

“Us? What—“

They both began, sharing a glance, before bursting out laughing. The girl just grinned, darting off into the crowd.

“I wonder what she meant, saying we were cute.” Stiles said, smiling. Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Exactly what she said? She thought we were dating.”

The other boy was deep in thought at that, and Derek’s heart lurched a little; regardless of any other denial Derek may have been in, this kid was fairly attractive in a loud, boyish sort of way. 

“Huh.” Was all he said, before he began chattering away again, pulling at the tape dispenser with a newfound ease. 

“What were you thinking?” Derek cut him off as he began to tell him about how his friend Scott once shoved him into a snow pile. 

“What do you mean?”

“I meant…” He wet his lips, watching Stiles from the corner of his eye. “You said huh, after that girl…” He trailed off, wanting to sink into the ground from embarrassment at what he was asking. He sounded like Laura, after one of her many boyfriends had told her, “I’ll see you around,” And she had kept him up all night, asking him what it meant in detail. She took notes. Stiles looked nervous, checking the clock. It was jarring, that they had been there for almost two hours. It had hardly felt like that long. The lines weren’t dimming by far, still providing them with a steady flow of customers. He rubbed the back of his head. 

“I… uh, I just thought it was…” He didn’t finish that sentence. A brunet boy attached himself to Stiles’ back, wrapping his arms around him. 

“Stiles!” 

Derek bristled for a moment, before remembering that this was probably Scott. Stiles’ _friend._ He relaxed. Stiles keeled over, laughing, bringing Scott down with him. He crossed him arms, staring down at the pair who were writhing around on the floor; well, that would provide some awkward questions for any youngsters who happened to pass by. When they resurfaced, Derek couldn’t help but notice how flushed Stiles was. He wondered how it would feel if _he—_

“…Is Derek.” He caught as he tuned into the conversation. Scott waved, grinning. 

He shoved the thoughts away, yet he couldn’t find it in his heart to say that Stiles hadn’t grown on him in these few short hours. Scott was pulling him away, though. Derek caught his hand, ignoring the tingle of sparks running up his fingers, hoping that he could find something to say. He moved his lips, but nothing came out. Stiles grinned, stilling Scott for a single moment. 

“No—God, Scott, we’ll go see Allison in a second!” 

He ripped a piece of wrapping paper off, scrawling on it and sticking it in the front pocket of Derek’s jeans. Derek flushed at his hand being so close to a certain area of his. He winked over exaggeratedly, flashing him a “Call me” gesture as he was dragged away in the opposite direction. He snorted, turning the paper over in his hand. 

On it, in messy black pen, were eleven digits. Eleven digits that could easily be his new future. Shaking his head, he took on the next customer, wondering when he had become such a romantic. 

_Since you met Stiles._ A voice in his head piped up; a two hour transformation, it seemed. 

Maybe Santa wasn’t so unforgiving this year after all. 

*                                                                                                                                                                   


End file.
